


badly arranged constellations

by anotherthief



Category: Life (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherthief/pseuds/anotherthief
Summary: In the year(-ish) after the series finale, Dani deals with the aftermath of her kidnapping and she and Charlie try to find a new normal.





	badly arranged constellations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookmountains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmountains/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Things are as they are. Looking out into the universe at night, we make no comparisons between right and wrong stars, nor between well and badly arranged constellations.  
– Alan Watts

* * *

 

_May ‘09 (3 weeks after Dani’s rescue)_

 

“So now I’m supposed to talk to you.”

“That’s generally how therapy works,” Dr. Something-or-other replies, then offers Dani a soft smile that she’s sure is supposed to encourage her to start talking.

Dani stares back at the shrink and imagines poking her in the eye. She could do much worse but she really would like to be cleared to go back to work, so instead Dani rolls her eyes and uncrosses her arms.

“What was it like?” the shrink asks, getting right to the point. Dani can appreciate her directness, if nothing else about this experience.

“Being kidnapped?... It sucked.”

The shrink keeps staring at Dani expectantly.

Dani stares back.

The minutes tick down and then her session is over. Her shrink sends her off with an appointment for the same time next week and homework to find a way to describe what it’s like to be kidnapped without simply listing off the rote facts of her experience. She’s supposed to write about it in this stupid journal the shrink gave her at the beginning of the session. She can let the shrink read it or not.

 

\---

 

_July ‘09_

 

The first time she opens the journal, she blames it on the insomnia. She’s been lying awake unable to shut off her brain for hours. It’s that part of the night that feels impossibly dark and long and she berates herself for still being awake, mentally counting down how much sleep she can get if she falls asleep right now, right now, _right now_ , in fifteen minute increments. What she really wants is a good stiff drink. Yes a drink would be perfect, two fingers worth of whiskey and she’s sure she’d be able to sleep. She should probably call her sponsor, or find a meeting. She sits up, not sure what she’s going to do next but tired of tossing and turning and needing to stop fantasizing about saying to hell with her recovery.

Dani jerks on the cord to turn on her bedside lamp, and the notebook is the first thing her eyes light on. It’s been sitting there since she received it; that’s simply where it landed. She has no intention of doing the bullshit homework assignments the shrink has set for her, so instead she writes “this is stupid” forty or fifty times, channeling her anger through the pen and into the page, nearly ripping a hole through the paper at one point.

She closes the book. She could light it on fire. That would take her mind off of everything. For a few minutes at least. Instead she opens it up again and makes a list.

_Things Dani Reese would rather do than therapy homework:_

  1. _Read one of Charlie’s Zen books_
  2. _Listen to Charlie monologize about some rare fruit_
  3. _Let Charlie drive_



She actually catches herself almost smiling as she writes the third one.

Dani shakes her head, shaking off whatever momentary satisfaction she found, and puts the notebook away. She’d still kill for a drink, but instead, she goes for a run, she takes a shower, and she’s the first through the door at a 6 am meeting.

 

\---

 

_August ‘09_

 

Tidwell keeps finding more paperwork for Dani to do at work. She’s pretty sure she’s done more paperwork in the last three months they’ve had her on desk duty than in her entire run as a cop. Today she’s in the stacks, pulling cold cases to be entered into the computer. She hates the stacks. The rows are too narrow, the room’s badly ventilated, she can’t see the exit, and to top it off it’s in an out of the way part of the building so it feels a lot like being alone.

Dani’s been there an hour when she hears footsteps echoing down the hall. Every hair on the back of her neck prickles up. She freezes and listens to the footsteps grow louder and then softer. “Everything’s fine,” she mumbles under her breath, her heartbeat racing. She takes the stack of files in her hand and puts them in the box, takes the box and moves it to the wall. It’s fine.

It’s fine, just fine, absolutely 100% fine the second time and third time too. Dani’s a big girl. If her heart races a little, it’s to be expected.

The fourth time it happens, three and a half hours into her shift, she practically runs out of the building. It’s not her finest moment. But she can’t breathe. She needs air and sky and noise and room to run. She texts Tidwell something about a headache or stomachache. She really doesn’t fucking care what he thinks. They broke up weeks ago because he couldn’t stop hovering. He was always there two feet behind her like if he lost sight of her she might disappear again. Dani Reese has been through some shit, but she’s not a china doll. Running out of the office today, aside.

She runs her hands through her hair. She goes home. The walls are too close and too thin. She goes for a run. She goes to a meeting. She buys more cigarettes and sits at a table by her apartment complex pool chain smoking and thinks about the fucking notebook and how she has therapy in the morning and still hasn’t done any of her stupid homework. The notebook’s in her bag. She doesn’t remember what compelled to her put it in there a few days ago but she did.

She puts out the cigarette and scrounges around in her bag until she comes up with a pen. _What does it feel like to be kidnapped?_ She writes in sloppy handwriting at the top of an empty page. Her shrink has given her more assignments since the first one but it’s the only one she can remember.

_It feels like -_

Her heart races; her palms are sweaty.

She clumsily lights another cigarette, puts it to her lips and takes a long drag, crosses out the words then writes them again.

It feels like -

She closes her eyes, _the sun’s too bright,_ then immediately opens them again. She needs to see, needs to match sounds to actions, to be aware of her surroundings. She counts her exits, almost unconsciously. She crosses the words out. She writes them again. She finishes the cigarette. Sweat rolls down the middle of her back.

_It feels like this._

She blinks back tears.

It feels like this.  
It feels like this.  
It feels like this.

She fills up one page and then another in shaky handwriting.

 

\---

 

_September ‘09_

 

When Charlie invited her over for a Labor Day BBQ, he probably didn’t anticipate Dani having a full fledged panic attack. She can’t even entirely explain what triggered it. Her therapist says they’re making progress even though Dani is still experimenting with how little she can say and still get reports passed along to Tidwell that say she’s participating in the process. But whatever progress the shrink says they’ve made or however full the notebook is suddenly becoming (with nothing, with everything), she’s still not sleeping and she’s still having panic attacks.

There’s just suddenly too many people but it’s not like she hasn’t been in crowds since she’s been back and this is a relatively small one - Ted, his daughter and grandson, Olivia, Rachel and her latest boyfriend, Bobby and his family, and Jane - but it’s too many people, too much noise, and she bolts for the house. Charlie’s alone in the kitchen, slicing up some fruit she’s seen him eat before but doesn’t know the name of.

“Hey Dani, have you ever -” Charlie starts then stops when he turns and sees her face. He furrows his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

She’s wringing her hands and can feel that she’s shaking. She feels short of breath. “Yeah Crews, I’m fine, I just -” she starts but Charlie is abandoning his fruit and walking over to her before she’s even finished. Then he’s at her side and one slightly sticky hand ever so lightly slides from her elbow down to her hands, loosely holding one sweaty palm, effectively stopping her wringing motion. She stares down at the floor.

“Dani, hey, look at me for a sec - are you okay?” he says it so softly that she wants to cry. She’s so tired of everyone tip-toeing around her like she’s going to break, but right now she can’t even say she blames them. Her emotions are ricocheting from one feeling to the next. Her heart feels like it could burst out of her chest at any moment between her racing pulse and overblown emotions. And the next thing she knows, she’s crying.

She pulls her hand from Charlie’s and pushes the heel of both palms into her eyes, trying to stem the flow. Charlie puts a hand on her back and rubs small circles in the middle.

Dani’s not sure how long they stay that way and it’s a small miracle that no one wanders from outside into the kitchen. But eventually she steadies herself enough to get out the words, “I need to go,” in an uneven voice.

He surveys her for half a second then simply nods, “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

She wants to argue, but then his hand finds hers again and gives it a gentle squeeze. Some part of her knows she’s in no shape to drive so she nods and follows as he leads them out then lets him take her home.

 

\---

 

_November ‘09_

 

The first time she sleeps with Charlie, it’s really not about Charlie. She’s just so damn sick and tired of feeling like she’s going to crawl out of her skin at any moment, her body existing in an almost constant state of ready alert. Dani wants to feel good and she wants to not think, to shut her brain off. Alcohol would be preferable but since she’s been back that’s the one line she’s been able to draw for herself and not cross.

She’s been spending more time at Charlie’s since the BBQ. They haven’t talked about her panic attack that day or any of the other ones she’s had since she’s been back. He just feeds her a lot of fruit and tries to trick her into taking naps on his couch because she’s still not really sleeping. That’s actually how this happens. They’re sitting on his couch and he’s rambling about some melon from... somewhere - she doesn’t really listen. He’s just talking hoping to bore her into sleeping and she just wants to shut him up, so she kisses him. And it feels _good_. Like the first sip of bourbon, how it settles warm in her stomach.

When she deepens the kiss, Charlie pulls back. “Reese?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Crews,” is what she says, _yes_ is what she means. He reaches out to touch her face, the pad of his thumb tracing her jaw, his eyes raking over her face looking for she’s not sure what but then it’s him who leans over and kisses her.

They waste little time from there.

When Dani wakes up in his bed at 3 am, she lies there for a while, studying his face as he sleeps, wondering if she’s just fucked everything up. She’s not ready to find out. She carefully gathers her clothes and drives herself home.

 

\---

 

_December ‘09_

 

Dani has good moments, sometimes whole hours where she’s okay and not just like okay in that she’s not actively having a panic attack. She’s _okay_. She can breathe and just... be here.

But dammit she’s starting to sound like Charlie. She’s not sure whether he’s more to blame or her shrink. She spends a lot of time in her notebook blaming them both in turn for the random bits of zen her brain is suddenly spitting at her. It’s still totally bullshit, but sometimes, maybe very small doses of bullshit are what’s needed. You don’t have to understand here to be here, and all that.

Right now, she’s here in this moment watching Charlie and Rachel argue over the proper way to put lights on a Christmas tree and how many strings they need and she doesn’t really know, there’s just a lot of arguing. She’s supposed to be stringing popcorn but instead she’s mostly eating it and rolling her eyes at the two of them. It’s really all very very dumb, but for this moment, she’s okay.

 

\---

 

_January ‘10_

 

It’s still hard. It’s hard to be present. It’s hard to be okay. It’s hard to be with Charlie.

He’s happy, she’s not, and it’s very glaringly obvious. She's always been crabby but it was different when they were just partners. She doesn’t really understand why he’s willing to put up with her general discontent now especially when it’s coupled with mood swings, panic attacks (although mercifully coming less frequently), and insomnia and nightmares.

Dani bites his head off over nothing for no reason other than he’s there and she can. She’s even screamed at him a few times. One time he almost screamed back. She could see it, see how she was pushing the limits of his seemingly ever abundant patience. She still feels like a wild thing with the barest threads left tethering her to sanity. She wonders if that’s how he sees her, too.

Whatever he thinks of her, he doesn’t expect anything from her and that’s maybe the only reason this is working at all (if it is, some days she’s really unsure). He just lets her be and some days that means dealing with the wild thing. Some days - when she almost feels like a person again - it means dealing with Dani.

Today is a mix of both.

Dani is sitting outside smoking when Charlie finds her. “Don’t you have therapy this morning?”

She rolls the cigarette between her fingers before taking another drag, taking her time before she answers, “Yes.”

“Then what are you doing here? I thought you told me the appointment was at 11.”

“I’m not going.” Dani flicks ash away onto the concrete.

“And why not?” he asks, his words clipped.

“Because I’m fucking tired of it. What’s the point?” she spits back at him.

“The point,” he grits out. He sits down then stands back up. “God, I don’t know, Dani, I thought the point was to get better.”

“Yeah well,” she takes a puff of her cigarette then breathes out the smoke. “I’ve been going for months, and I’m not any better.”

“Wow thanks, I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re mad.” Her words are flat, but she can feel her temper rising.

Charlie just looks at her, his expression steely.

She puts her cigarette out and stands and before she knows it, she’s yelling. “I don’t know what you have to be mad about - _I’m_ the one living this! I’m the one going crazy!”

“You’re not the only one,” he barks back.

His reply hurts, but she’s far too mad to cry. “Well, then maybe you should go to therapy,” she puts her hands up, “I’m done. I’m just. I’m done.”

She stomps out. He doesn’t follow.

 

-

 

She goes for a run then back to her place intending to stay there. Hours later, when she’s finally calmed down enough to check her phone, she has a missed call and a voicemail apology from Charlie. Dani’s still angry and when she goes back she’s not sure it won’t be for round two.

Then she sees his face, worry and remorse plastered all over it. What’s left of her rage turns into tears (these goddamn mood swings), and when he tries to pull her to him, she lets him.

 

-

 

“Will I ever feel normal again?” she asks him, quietly. They’re sitting on the couch. Her legs are lying across his lap.

Charlie takes a minute before he answers, staring off into space. He swallows, then those clear blue eyes settle back on her. “No,” he says the word carefully and pauses, “it won’t feel like it did before, but… you’ll find a new normal.”

“What if I don’t want a new normal?” Dani huffs out, feeling every bit the petulant child she’s sure she sounds like.

Charlie shrugs, gives her that patented Crews half smile of his. “I don’t think you really get a choice on this one,” he says, then reads her look and adds, “I’m sorry.” He runs his hand from her knee to her ankle, giving it a gentle squeeze. “But if you keep going to therapy and writing in your notebook, it will get better. And if it doesn’t, we’ll find another therapist. We’ll find something that works. It will get better.”

He sounds so sure. She hopes he’s right. She wants to believe he’s right, but she’s running low on faith. And even though it makes her feel impossibly small, she lets herself ask, “When?”

“When it does,” Charlie replies simply, Zen-speak back in action.

Dani rolls her eyes, but later that night when she pulls out her new notebook, it’s the first thing she writes down. _When it does_. Maybe if she leans into it, she can make it so. Maybe.

 

\---

 

_March ‘10_

 

When Dani gets to Charlie’s house it’s late. She finds him out by the pool. He’s lying on a fold out pool chair staring up at the night sky. Dani could ask him what he’s doing, but it’s either as self-explanatory as it looks or some Zen bullshit that she doesn’t have the headspace for tonight. Her new therapist put her through the ringer this afternoon and her head's still spinning. So she doesn’t ask what Charlie’s doing and instead sits down on the chair next to him. She leans back and lets her eyes fall shut. She’s not terribly interested in stargazing, nor is she interested in being around people right now, but she can’t imagine going back to her still too small apartment and listening to the new neighbors have another screaming match about god knows what either.

“Reese, did you know that the Big Dipper is made up of seven stars? And that they’re all part of the constellation Ursa Major, the Great Bear?”

Dani runs her hands over her face. “I’m really not in the mood for trivia right now.”

“Okay.” Charlie replies in that ever chipper way of his, upbeat because he just is, even when she’s in a terrible mood.

 

-

 

She doesn’t realize she’s falling asleep until she’s waking up and jerks into a sitting position, gasping for air. The nightmare already fading from her subconscious, but she knows what it was about. She’s trapped. She’s always trapped.

Charlie is looking at her with concern etched across his face. He stands up and disappears, which Dani is grateful for because she’s able to take a minute to calm her racing heart without an audience. When Charlie returns he has a glass of water and hands it to her. She’s not thirsty, but she takes a sip anyways.

Charlie sits back down on his laid out folding chair but instead of lying back down, he sits sideways facing her, legs on the ground, elbows on his knees. “Do you wanna - ?” he starts to ask but she shakes her head cutting him off.

“Tell me about the Big Dipper. What do you see?” Dani puts her glass on the ground and lies back in the chair again, hoping Charlie will follow suit and stop staring at her. He does and then after a moment starts telling her about the nymph Callisto who was admired by Zeus and then in a fit of jealousy Zeus’ wife Hera transformed Callisto into a bear. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, Reese, then Callisto’s son Arcas came upon her and nearly killed her. So Zeus turned Arcas into a bear and he put Callisto and Arcas into the night sky, so that they could always be together. And if you look, see there,” Charlie points somewhere above what she recognizes as the Big Dipper, “there is the Little Dipper is really just part of Callisto’s son Arcas. The dippers aren’t really dippers; they’re the back and tail of Callisto and Arcas.”

“So they’re bear butts?” Dani asks, a little incredulous.

“Well, I suppose you could say that.” He concedes and even though she’s not looking at him, she can imagine the tilt of his head and the little grin on his face.

“And you like this story?”

“Well, I don’t know if you can really like any story that ends with people turned into bears and installed into the night sky, but if you’ve read any Greek mythology… it could be worse. I’ll just say that.”

“Well, I think it’s crap. Calli-whatever her name is didn’t do anything. She was just there and Zeus’ wife turned her into a bear. That’s not fair. And then her son gets caught up in it. It’s bullshit.” Dani lets out a frustrated noise. “Why do bystanders always get dragged into other people’s shit?”

“Because.” Crews replies and Dani can almost hear him shrug and does hear him sigh.

“All your bullshit Zen quotes and that’s all you’ve got for me? Because.” She asks, flatly.

If he has a response to that he doesn’t offer one and instead moves back to their original topic. “I think I like it because they’re together in the end, Callisto and Arcas. If Zeus had just stopped Arcas from hurting the bear Callisto and sent them in different directions, they would have always been apart. At least they’re in the sky together; they still have each other even though something terrible happened to them both. That’s something.”

Dani doesn’t think it’s much, but Charlie sounds satisfied with his answer, so she just closes her eyes.

 

-

 

Later she wakes up in Charlie’s room, not entirely sure how she got there but with a vague memory of Charlie carrying her to bed. She rolls over and sees him lying on his stomach, head turned towards her, out cold. By now she knows the lines of face better than she’s ready to admit, but her eyes roam over them again somewhat absently. It’s early, the beginnings of daylight stretching in through the windows. She can still count the nights she’s slept through since she got back. She keeps a running count in her notebooks. The experience leaves her with this almost hungover feeling in the morning; as if her body is unsure how to handle the excess of rest, comparatively speaking.

She rolls out of bed and shuffles her way to the shower, hoping the hot water will clear her head. By the time she’s out an hour later, she can smell coffee and finds Charlie downstairs making breakfast. He hands her a plate and slides two eggs onto it, over easy, just the way she likes them.

She’s not really sure what the hell they’re doing and she’s shut down any discussion about it because regardless of whatever progress she’s made in therapy and with the stupid notebooks, she’s not ready. She’s not. And Charlie seems to realize that. So she sips her coffee, eats her eggs (ignoring the slice of grapefruit Charlie has added to her plate), and listens to him hum something familiar that she can’t really place. It’s weird how almost normal it feels. They’re both so entirely far removed from normal, but a quiet morning like this can almost make her forget and well, it’s something. A new normal, maybe. She’s not putting any money on it, yet.

But, then again, she’s never been afraid of long odds.


End file.
